Menu Watch: Breakfast, lunch in cozy new Midtown spot

This detail is from the Jube salad served at the new Little House on Center St., which occupies a renovated Midtown cottage. The salad contains quinoa, kale, leafy greens and other healthful ingredients.
(Photo:
Johnathan L. Wright/RGJ
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Pet peeve: I dislike the practice of assigning random, gimmicky names to dishes on menus — names whose meanings bear no relation to what’s on the plate. That was the case at the old Rose’s, where sandwiches were named after famous artists (a particularly tiresome trend that seems to have had its day).

At Little House on Center St., the restaurant now occupying the Midtown cottage that once housed Rose’s, a club sandwich is a called a club sandwich, fish and chips called fish and chips (and not, say, the Michelangelo). And thank goodness for that.

On my first visit to Little House about six weeks ago, the sky is a cloudless blue, and folks are sitting at al fresco tables enjoying summer’s arrival (finally) in Reno. I opt instead for a cozy window table inside, and while I wait for my companion, I take in Little House’s appealing renovation: the celadon walls, the vintage tables spaced far enough for privacy, the long valances framing windows, the open kitchen and the airy feel.

My friend does breakfast basic (though it’s nearly noon): two eggs over easy with a stack of toast, a pile of grilled potatoes and a big cup of hot tea. I, on the other hand, do the lunch thing, ordering a classic club that layers turkey, ham, bacon, cheese, onions and greens. The sandwich arrives with a mound of those corrugated french fries. The fries aren’t homemade, but I don’t care: In their own way, they’re as classic as the club.

Beautiful arrangement

A fortnight later finds me again at Little House. Summertime — and the parking is easy (lots of space on Center Street).

This visit, I’m taking a meeting, so it’s mainly business, not mainly chitchat like two weeks before. I want to graze among the menu’s six salads, I really do, but the Ortega chile burger won’t be denied. Thick strips of Ortega chiles (also called Anaheim chiles) and a third of a pound of bacon are fixed to the medium-rare patty by a blanket of melted jack cheese. Corrugated fries? Yup, they’re here, too.

One of my business acquaintances, however, is made of sterner stuff and selects the Jube’s salad (Jube being a nickname of an owner of Little House). The salad, uniting almost every good-eating trend of the moment, offers a colorful, beautifully arranged assemblage of quinoa, kale, broccoli, ruffled lettuce, spinach, onions and four kinds of seeds (sunflower, pumpkin, sesame and poppy). Balsamic vinaigrette binds everything.

Saying hello

On my most recent stop by Little House, I finally choose the fish and chips that have been tempting me from day one. A large, nicely breaded fillet — not too heavy, with the right bit of snap — soon appears (along with, of course, the corrugated fries). Some bites I dip in the tartar sauce; others I sprinkle with malt vinegar.

The unusually named B.L.T. + A&C draws the attention of my friend. The sandwich turns out to be a traditional B.L.T. with insertions of avocado (the A) and jack cheese (the C). The sandwich brims with bacon, the strips overhanging the grilled ciabatta roll.

Little House’s menu contains plenty more to try on future visits. There are huevos rancheros with or without chorizo, a shrimp and crab omelet draped in cheese sauce, a grilled cheese sandwich lined with grilled garlic (here, let me breathe on you), and a blackened Cajun burger. If all you want is pancakes, they’re here, too: in full and short stacks.

Each of my three meals at Little House, the same waitress serves my party. By time three, we recognize each other and wave hello. I haven’t told her my first name, but if I do, I’m sure she’ll remember it. Little House on Center St. is like that.